Little Foundling - Stars, Islands and Deserts - Margrethe Alexandroni

The full moon had climbed higher in the sky, shining on the frost-covered ground. The wolf was sitting at the edge of the forest, its eyes resting on her where she stood at the window. The air was alive with the sounds of the forest and something that sounded like a baby crying. The murmur of the trees grew stronger, but the wolf was quiet, only the hum of the wind and the baby crying. A baby crying! How could that be? The sound of footsteps - she was coping less well with her solitude than she'd..